


By Any Other Name

by TheDeadAreWalking



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M, References to Depression, Soulmate AU, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-05-07 04:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14663742
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheDeadAreWalking/pseuds/TheDeadAreWalking
Summary: Nothing about Bruce's life made sense, why should meeting his soulmate be any different.





	By Any Other Name

**Author's Note:**

> This may be confusing for some readers....Ill try to add an explanation at the end.

Since Bruce could remember he had been infatuated with the idea of soulmates. The thought that someone out there was meant to complete him was any young child's dream. Bruce would sit with his parents and ask them about how they met for the first time. His father would always smile as his mother animatedly rehashed the story Bruce had heard a million times. He loved the story, at a stuffy party where they were both bored and his father spotted his mother across the room. 

Bruce would wander into his father's study sometimes even if he wasn't allowed in just ask to see the black smooth feminine cursive lettering of his mom across his wrist, 'Do I know you?' He thinks it's sweet. His mother's was equally perfect. A blocky sturdy lettering that mimicked his dad's that read, 'I hope you will.'

Bruce remembers staying up all night on his tenth birthday waiting for the letters to appear. He wondered if she would have a bubbly lettering or smooth or even messy? He mostly wondered what it would say. He hopes it was something has poetic has his parents.

He wasn't sure how he felt about the eerily sterile lettering that showed. It was precise as if the person took great care in every letter, almost too much care. The words confused him more, 'Jerome beat me?'

Who was Jerome? The thought of walking around with the name of someone he didn't know bothered him. The words also seemed to bother his parents to a degree. He remembers overhearing a conversation a few nights after his birthday.

"Martha, you can't tell me it's not alarming!" his father whispered.

He heard his mother sigh, "There's nothing we can do about it. You can't even be sure it will be a...a," his mother trailed off in the way he knew meant she was talking with her hands now. He wonders what she was motioning.

"Don't be daft," his father hissed, "People are going to see. Going to say things to him. He's just a child. One look at that mark and you know no women would write like that."

Bruce looked down at his wrist, eyes filling with tears. He didn't understand what they were talking about but he felt uncomfortable. He turned and quickly ran down the hall. Smack into a pair of sturdy legs, "Master Bruce, what seems to be the issue?"

Bruce wasn't sure what to say, he didn't even know what the issue was. He wordlessly showed his wrist to Alfred. The older man leaned down and examined the mark. There were a few beats of silence before he spoke with a smile, "Seems like you're going to be in a bit of a scuffle, Master B. Best make sure you grow up strong to make sure this Jerome, fella doesn't cause any more issue."

To a ten year old that sounded a lot more promising and exciting than it was.

But life didn't turn out how Bruce wanted, one minute he was walking home with his parents and the next everything he thought he knew was shattered.

His ideas and exceptions of the world scattered like the pearls at his feet.

The idea of a soulmate wasn't as appealing as it had once been while he looked at the lifeless bodies of his parents.

-

But time moved on and he moved with it. He had plans and goals of his own and slowly the words on his arm faded into an afterthought until a name made its way to his ears over the news.

"Inmates that escaped include Jerome Valeska," the newscaster said while naming off other dangerous individuals. He felt a chill at the thought that this may be the same Jerome mentioned on his wrist.

Days later, at the gala, he wondered if maybe this was the moment. Up on stage, knife held to his throat, if somehow this was how he would meet his soulmate. Bruce's skin burned from the knife cutting into his throat until it suddenly left and before he could breathe, Jerome was dead.

"I really thought he'd be the one," Bruce had mumbled as Alfred drove them home.

"Excuse me?"

"I thought he was the Jerome. The one that would cause me to meet..." he trailed off. It didn't matter. He wasn't sure why he cared. He had far more important things to deal with so he shoved the thought away again.

-

But this is Gotham, logic doesn't seem to apply in the city. Jerome's return from death proved this and again Bruce wondered.

He stared at his reflection in the mirror. His own hideous face stared back at him, the shard of glass raised to finally kill the man that deserved far worse when he froze.

He couldn't do it, the glass clattered to the ground as Jerome groaned.

"I will not kill," he told Alfred. He wants to add that he can't because it's Jerome. Because Jerome, despite being an unspeakably evil person, was the only hope he had of finding his other half. He just wanted happiness. He wanted peace.

All he ever seemed to get was sucked deeper and deeper into a world he didn't even want to know existed.

-

His eighteenth birthday, he wonders if Jerome even knew. His life doesn't feel real anymore, he feels trapped in a downward spiral, feels himself inching closer to the darkness he tried to stop.

Then he meets him, Jeremiah Valeska.

He feels something toward the man. Maybe it's the fact he shares the face with of the person he's been obsessed with for years but it feels different.

Something inevitably.

_Something tragic._

But he wasn't his soulmate. The words weren't right, neither felt the sudden relief at finally finding someone to balance each other.

But Bruce did notice a shift in Jeremiah's face as if he felt something was wrong about the situation as well. Like something was supposed to happen but they arrived too early. Or perhaps, too late.

There wasn't time to think about it. Bruce never seemed to have enough time for anything.

-

And then, Jerome died. For real this time and Bruce felt like screaming, felt like running away, wanted to break things and yell and punch. All this time wasted, he thought. What was the point of it all?

-

Bruce's life never turned out how anyone expected. His childhood wasn't normal, the death of his parents wasn't normal, his upbringing wasn't normal. It made sense his soulmate wouldn't be normal.

That their meeting wouldn't be traditional.

Bruce felt time slow as he clung to Jeremiah and heard the words spill from his mouth, "Jerome beat me? That'll be the day!"

Before he could stop himself he screamed out, "No!"

He felt hands grabbing and pulling him back, pulling him away from Jeremiah. He felt numb.

This couldn't be happening, not him. Not like this, it didn't make any sense but there was no denying that those were the exact words etched into his own skin.

The worst part was, for the first time in eighteen years he could breathe. He felt whole and complete and as tears welled up in his eyes, Jeremiah shot a man in the face.

The crowd around them silenced as Jeremiah wiped his face to reveal a paler skin underneath, "Well this was unexpected, Bruce," he said rubbing his wrist where Bruce was certain the word _no_ was scratched, "It certainly makes things a little more difficult wouldn't you say?"

Bruce remained silent as he held back tears. He listened as Jeremiah told him about the gas, Jerome's diary, and plans to destroy the city. He should have said something.

He wanted to tell him the gas worked because otherwise, the words on their skin would be their introduction in the maze. He wanted to cry, fall to his knees, he wanted to touch Jeremiah.

"I would hate to have to kill you," Jeremiah whispered. This close Bruce could clearly see his face, the face was supposed to love and protect. Jeremiah stroked the side of his face with a gun, he wonders what he's done wrong to deserve such a cruel life, "In fact, I can honestly say I love you."

Just as Bruce is about to cry out in agony the gun comes crashing down onto his head and he's forced into a sleep where he dreams of a world where he can live happily.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so explanation time. Basically, my explanation boils down to Bruce meeting the real Jeremiah for the first time. His first time meeting the true postgas!Jeremiah. I know even this is weak considering anything they said after he got sprayed would count but I think in the graveyard is the first real time they are meeting. Idk this came from a late night discord chat and I had to write it. I won't like I kinda hate this fic but decided to post anyway because why not. Maybe someone will get a kick out of it.
> 
> If anyone has a question I'll be happy to answer.
> 
> Otherwise Id love a comment on what you though!!!


End file.
